


Pen Pals

by CapGirlCanuck



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: -Ish, American vs Canadian, Angst and Tragedy, But lots of fluff, Canon Compliant, Farming stuff, Gen, Introducing Keerah Millar, It's part of my private AU, Keerah is Awesome, Letters, Parent Tony Stark, Pen Pals, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Sort Of, Tony Stark Has A Heart, this is my first time writing Peter and Tony so be nice pls, this is the intro to other fics I'm working on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-10-04 12:50:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17304953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapGirlCanuck/pseuds/CapGirlCanuck
Summary: *ON INDEFINITE HIATUS**HUMBLEST APOLOGIES*Peter Parker and Keerah Millar have been pen pals for a few years.A lot has changed in Peter's life over that time, and sometimes he wishes he could tell her all of it. But she'd never believe him. Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay!!!  
> I got a little writer's block on Steve and Bucky (Gasp! I didn't think that was possible!!!), and was mentally wandering all over the place. I kind of stumbled over the idea I'd had of my OC Keerah Millar being a pen pal of Peter Parker, and thought, what the heck? Dust it off and maybe I can play with it.  
> Then I realised it would be a great way to introduce the heroes and heroines of one of my not-strictly-canon projects.  
> And I could write about Tony, without having to actually voice him. Yet. I've never really tried getting in his head, and don't have time to right now. But he's still an important person and intriguing, even if I'm not crazy about him.  
> Peter on the other hand, is so much like Steve it's ridiculous. He's quieter, not as quick-tempered (must be the lack of Irish blood), but they have the same conscience.  
> And Keerah is... Keerah. My girl. Hope the blunt farming references don't make anyone squeamish.  
> Okay if I keep going this will be longer than the first chapter! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after Peter has gotten his powers but before Civil War.

February 18, 2016

Dear Peter,

Wow, I wish you could see this sunrise, it’s sooo… golden. But living gold, you know what I mean?

Sorry, guess I’m a little starry-eyed this morning. I’ve had like, 4 hours sleep because I was up all night, pulling out lambs. Can you believe it?! Two sets of twins and TRIPLETS, ALL on the same night‼!

Well, I guess we shouldn’t have any trouble for the rest of lambing season. But, it really is the COOLEST thing. To reach inside a ewe and disentangle all those little legs and necks and then pull a new life out in to the world with YOUR OWN HANDS. This is why I could never live in a city like you. =)

How is the city these days? Are there still guys picking on you at school? I keep saying one day I’ll come to New York and see you. And I wouldn’t mind for a week or so. Don’t think I could last much longer though, ha ha. I do have a thing for heights, though so I’ve gotta climb the Empire State. Though the CN Tower is taller. Ahem.

I guess I just wanted to tell you about the lambs. They are all dried off and nursing or sleeping now. I always think they know what I did for them, that I helped them get born. They remember that.

The only thing that beats that is saving a human life, which is bigger in both ways I guess: more to gain, more to lose.

Ok, now I’m getting philosophical. I think that means I need a strong coffee before I head out to start morning chores.

Okay, here’s my question: What’s the most AWE inspiring thing you’ve ever gotten to do? You know, something that feels like a privilege even though it might have been work. Or BE work. Write soon, eh?

_Keerah Millar_

*****

I think it’s still February

Yo, ‘Nuck!

Okay so my first thought was: YUCK. The next was: that’s probably the coolest thing anybody’s ever said about farming. Of course, you’re the only person I know who has anything to do with farming. ;)

Yeah, city’s different for sure. Mostly human lives around here with the odd pet snake or stray cat. Almost ran into a racoon in an alley the other night. Jeez! That thing scared me. Lambs must be pretty cute, huh?

Nothing new at school. We’ve been blowing things up in lab. I have a formula for a bomb made from, dish soap, chewing gum, batteries, and… I better not finish that. The government might not be happy!

You do ask some freakin’ deep questions. LOL. But I guess I would have to say…

I did save someone’s life once. I didn’t really think about until later and then it all hit me. Like they would have died if I hadn’t done something. I kinda wanted to throw up after. No kidding. I’d never felt like that before. Like, I just did something that changed, well, someone’s world. Who knows what those people are going to do with their lives?!

I wish I could have told Uncle Ben about that.

Let’s see, question for you…

What emoji do you use the most when texting?

Oh Aunt May’s calling dinner.

TTYL,

P.B.P.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can guess what's going on now...

April 20, 2016

Hey Keerah.

Life’s pretty chill right now.

Just scribbling a note ‘cause I realized I haven’t written in a few weeks.

Okay, and I missed Uncle Ben today really bad. I don’t know, it’s weird. Some days it’s just… It hurts. We used to sit and talk before bed, which is when I’m writing this.

I wish… I wish you could have met him. I really want to talk about him sometimes, but Aunt May still finds it really hard and I don’t wanna hurt her.

He was really funny. He could make anyone, even those too cool seniors laugh. He used to tease me about being small and said maybe I could play a hobbit in a Lord of the Rings movie, if I stayed that way. Except I was too skinny, and I needed to eat more of Aunt May’s cooking.

She doesn’t get much chance to cook these days. She works too hard. She tries so hard to take care of me. I really hope I’ll be able to fish school and get a good job to help out. I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but I know I’ll get scholarships for school. I know we’re both glad of that.

Hey, I don’t mean to dump all these sad vibes on you. But I know you want the truth. So that’s it.

Aced my chem test yesterday.

Umm, how are you?

Peter

*****

May 2016

Peter,

Oh gosh, I’ve forgotten what day it is. Things have been… hectic around here. I hate it!

Dad snapped at me over which pasture I was turning out the horses into this morning, and Jack and I got into a fight over what movie to watch tonight. Why does this have to happen???

It’s about my Dad’s work. Not the farm or the firefighting, but he has a special part-time job with the government. And he might lose it. It’s really important to all of us. And, ugh. I want to stop thinking about it.

Hey, did you hear about what happened in Germany with the Avengers? I saw all the footage on TV and now Grandad keeps talking about it. How no one’s right and no one’s wrong, each person has to follow their conscience, blah, blah, blah Sorry, I’m not being disrespectful. He knows what he’s talking about. In Europe he had to make decisions that were both wrong and right all the time. I just wish he would talk about something else. Like how close Hermes is to foaling, and whether or not it’ll be a filly or a colt or what colour it will be…

I guess I should be more sympathetic. Captain America is a friend of his. Well, sort of. They fought in some of the same battles in World War II. And Dad’s met him a few times. There was a HUGE fight last night when Dad and Grandad were talking over supper and my stupid sister had to jump in with some comment about ‘breaking the law’ and Grandad got so angry he couldn’t talk, and left before dessert.

Sometimes I could wring Steph’s neck‼‼!

And my 16th birthday is next week! Ahhh!

Okay. I’m sorry. I had to actually cry there for a few minutes and now I feel a little better. Sorry I’m unloading on you. I guess this is stuff I can’t really talk to any of my friends at school about, but you’re far enough away that it’s okay. And I trust you. Thanks for being a friend the last three years.

I hope things are going well for you. I did get your last letter. I’d love to hear any story you feel like telling, you’ve already told me a lot! And when he was alive, I feel kinda like I got to know him too. How long has it been? Six months?

Give yourself a break. You are totally allowed to get sad about it. I still cry sometimes when I think about my mom, and she died when I was 7.

Sometimes life just stinks I guess.

‘So does manure’, Grandad would say. ‘And look how green it makes the grass.’

Well, I hope the grass gets green soon.

Thanks for being a friend.

Love, Keerah

P.S. I almost forgot a question. Okay which side are you on? Captain America’s or Iron Man’s? Sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these are probably going to come in spurts, whenever I need something easy to write to break writer's block.   
> Kudos + comments are always appreciated. Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter hasn't gotten Keerah's last letter.  
> And these ones will probably meet each other on their way.

June 7, 2016

Technically I think it’s the 8th. I should be asleep. But I’ve got too much running through my head. Dad was called out to a bad one today. A garage fire. It fell in on him. He got out okay, but I always hate that I can’t be with him. He’s so strong, it would take a mountain falling on him to kill him,

Weird. I actually wrote it. I used to think about Dad getting killed all the time. When he was in Afghanistan I knew any day a bullet in his heart would mean he wouldn’t come home. I just lived with that. It was… normal. Now I get scared.

Why? Fire is less dangerous than bullets. It’s also easier to fight. You can see it.

Maybe it’s because he was gone for so long then. He was gone all the time. Now, he’s here. With us. And I don’t want him to be gone again.

Ugh, now I’m making myself get freaked out all over again. It’s not like I’m afraid of anything ever happening to me. It’s seeing other people in pain and maybe losing them that gets me. And farming’s a dangerous job. It’s the second most dangerous job in the world after mining. I mean I was there when Pablo lost three fingers in the conveyer belt, and when Jack broke his arm when the tractor rolled over. I got thrown off a horse and kicked in the face once.

We ended up shooting that horse. He was just too dangerous. The only one I’ve never been able to reach. I called him Trigger, like Roy Rogers’s horse. Pablo said it was because he was ‘a horse with a hair trigger’. God only knows everything that had been done to him. We did find out he’d been a rodeo horse for several years, and might have been a mustang, but the freeze brand had been messed with. One thing about him: he liked bananas. I never was able to feed him one by hand, but he loved them. Most of the time, food is a big key in breaking through to animals. But he would rather have starved than let me touch him. I’ve always felt like I let him down somehow. Grandad says, "When they're in the ground, you know where they are." Not getting beaten or mistreated by one more idiot. 

Darn, I’m just making myself sadder. Did I tell you I got a new bald eagle last weekend? He’s a year old, and I’ve named him Pearson, after Lester B. Pearson. I name most of my birds after prime ministers. (Better than presidents! Ha!) Of course, my special one is still Rahkee, which is like the inversion of the syllables in my name.

There’s also Gwaihir, who is named after the king of the Eagles in _The Hobbit_. He’s semi-wild though, and only comes home when I call him. He’s beautiful. I think you would like him.

If you come out to the farm someday I’ll teach you how to ride a horse and climb a tree and feed the birds, as long as you’re not squeamish about those things.

Oh, rats I’ve taken longer about this than I thought. I can Dad getting up. Well, no sleep won’t kill me. I’ve gone almost three days without sleep once. And as usual, writing you has made me feel better. Jack would just call me a wimp. Well, then he’d give me a big hug, and promise to be careful as he can. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.

Love, Keerah

*****

June 8, 2016

Hi Keerah,

Do I have news for you?!?!?!

It’s all happened so fast, to start with anyway, and I guess I wasn’t even really sure how to tell anyone, or WHAT to tell anyone, so only Aunt May knows. Well, so does Ned. But oh, wow, sometimes when I stop I’m like OMG.

I’ve got an internship with Tony Stark.

‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼!

I mean Stark Industries. Or SI they call it.

And I know you live in Canada, but even you have to know who Tony Stark is, right? Iron Man?

I know Iron Man is a superhero, which is awesome in itself. But of course Mr. Stark is also the biggest inventor, maybe the most brilliant mind since Einstein. A couple of my teachers like to talk about him, and all the things he’s invented and the whole story of how he became Iron Man.

He’s also a pretty interesting person. I actually got to meet him. But that actually wasn’t the first time.

It was actually Aunt May who reminded me of that. I was like 10 and we went to the Stark Expo, ‘cause of all the science displays and stuff and almost everything was free. Anyway, some bad guy set a whole bunch of killer robots loose on the Expo, and well, it sounds kind of embarrassing, but Iron Man actually saved me from one of them.

Anyway, this is short, because I have to run. Ned and I are going to a movie tonight. Not something Aunt May would normally allow on a school night, but tomorrow is only a half-day at school. And it’s the premier sooo she caved, for once.

I hope I’ll hear from you soon.

Peter Parker

SI Intern


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish more of my characters were 'normal' and could get flu/colds as bad as the one I've got. At least Steve and Peter would have understood. 
> 
> Almost summertime for these kids!

June 19, 2016

Peter,

Oh my gosh, I’m… sorry?

I shouldn’t have asked you that. I’m really sorry. =(

Did I just make things really awkward?

I mean, I totally get it if you side with Iron Man. I never said he was wrong. I just don’t agree with the Accords and everything, and we are insanely glad that our country backed out of signing them, which hardly anyone noticed, thank God.

It’s like what my Dad told me. You have to listen to your conscience, make up your mind, and stick by what you know is right. Because that’s what heroes do.

Not that I’m a hero, or anything, you know, though my dad sure is! Girls aren’t heroes anyway, they’re heroines.

Soooooo, if you still want to be friends…

What’s it like? Do you ever get to actually hang out with Tony Stark? Have you been to the Tower in New York? Is it as crazy big as it looks on TV? Does he have like a massive lab where he builds all his stuff? Will you send my some pics of the view from upstairs?

That’s actually crazy cool. I know how much you love science and stuff, and I know Mr. Stark is even smarter than his father. (Grandad met him too.) My dad has said more than once how insanely smart the arc reactor tech is, though Jack sometimes chuckles over the (sorry, family joke)

Okay, maybe I should talk about something else…

We’ve put the cattle out to pasture. All the calves are getting strong. Still half-a-dozen or so late ones to come, so we gotta keep an eye out for coyotes. Sam is a brilliant herd dog, and if he ever really needed help, well, I’d send Wolfie out and he can take down an elephant, or a wolf anyway, he _is_ an Irish wolfhound, so heaven help anything that tried to stand up to him!

Don’t worry though. If you guys come out here this summer, I’ll introduce you properly, and you won’t have any trouble with either of them. Same with Gwaihir. Do you think your Aunt would enjoy a country vacation?

Okay, I hope things are okay with you. If I don’t hear back from you, well, I’ll know I just wrecked one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.

And maybe the whole subject of the Accords is not a hot-button topic for you, and that’s okay. Thank goodness my family is safe though.

Love,

Keerah Millar

*****

June 14

Keerah,

_So sorry this is late,_

_So sad to make you wait._

_But I hope this says how glad I am_

_That all these years you’ve been my friend._

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY‼‼_

Hey, don’t have time for a proper letter now, school and internship stuff, you know. Gotta hammer down on finals. I’ll write later.

We are all okay.

P.B.P.


	5. Chapter 5

Saturday, June 25

Dear Keerah,

Sorry, I haven’t written a real letter in so long. School’s kept me pretty busy. So has the internship. It’s been cool, but hopefully I’ll get to do way more over the summer.

Soooo, I don’t really see why things should be awkward. Whatever the adults do, I always want to be friends with you. I haven’t really had a chance to think about the Accords.

We’ve talked about them in school, but I don’t pay as much attention, because science and math are way cooler. (Don’t tell my teachers I said that) From what I know I totally understand why the governments would want to have some say in what the Avengers do. But I also see why that could be a problem, especially if you get asked to do something that you believe is wrong. Or told not to do something you believe is right.

I think Mr. Stark did everything he could in Germany, especially because he didn’t know about who actually did the bombing of the UN. But you also can’t blame Captain America for believing his friend was innocent. I know I’d stick by Ned no matter what. I also feel kinda sad that Mr. Stark’s friend Mr. Rhodes got hurt in Germany. No one wanted anything like that to happen.

Why is it such a big deal anyway? You’ve said stuff about your grandfather fighting in World War 2 with Captain America before. And what do you mean by your family being ‘safe’? Are you in danger? Is someone threatening you?

Okay, I’m sorry, I got kinda stuck there worrying, I almost finished this without answering any of your other questions. You said you’re fine, and that Canada backing out of the Accords was a good thing????

Umm, so the internship is cool. Yeah, I’ve met Mr. Stark a few times. He’s pretty cool. He’s smart and an amazing inventor. I mostly work with Happy Hogan. He’s like Mr. Stark’s right-hand man. He’s a good guy. He has a lot of things to do though, really busy managing things, so we mostly talk by text. I’ve been to the tower twice. It is a pretty amazing thing, and it’s huge. No, I’ve never seen Mr. Stark’s lab, and if I ever go back, I’ll get as high up as I’m allowed, and get some pictures.

Did you say your grandad met Mr. Stark’s dad too? Wow, he met everyone. I just remember that he was involved with the super-soldier program that made Captain America, and he built Cap’s shield. Right? You know I’m terrible at history.

We’re all doing okay here. Ned and I are planning some cool stuff for this summer. How about you? Oh, I don’t know about visiting your place, just because I don’t know how much time Aunt May would be able to get off work. Honestly, I think she would like a country vacation, and I’d love to get to actually meet you and your family. I’ll talk to her about it and keep you posted.

Maybe you could come to New York, too? I could show you all around. There’s not a lot to see in Queens, but we could spend a day in Manhattan, and do Central Park, and of course the Empire State. Would you want to see a show on Broadway too? And you will HAVE to have a sandwich at Delmar’s: best in all of Queens.

I hope you are doing okay, and that things have settled down for your family. Oh, you said something about a foal being born? Did that happen okay?

TTYL,

Peter Parker

****

Dear Peter,

I don’t even know where to start I forgot about you until I found your last letter in a stack of mail on my desk which I haven’t read in weeks. It’s been awile since I wrote anythin Wait, I’ve been writing all the time now. Since I can’t talk.

There I said it. I can’t talk and I hate myself for it. Trying to makes my throat hurt, makes my head hurt, makes everything hurt. This is so hard I can’t do this I can’t keep going. I’m supposed to be stronger. My mother wouldn’t stop talking just because But she never killed her grandfather.

So I sit here staring at those words and erasing them and writing them again. I don’t want to believe it, but it’s true. I didn’t mean to. But it was my fault. I’m the one who betrayed my family and put us all in danger and that’s the reason Grandad is dead. Because of me. He said so. He I can’t talk about that I can’t even write it.

No one knows. Except Jack. He almost never leaves me alone now. I told him to leave me alone, that I would get him killed too, and he said he was too strong to get killed. Somehow I almost belive him. Everything is horrible, I wonder if that’s what Dad was like after Mom died. He had just got home from Afghanistan, and I remember lots of crying and shouting between him and Uncle John. Now they’ve lost their dad.

Stephanie walks around crying. I can’t cry. I’m too angry. Or maybe I’m not angry. I don’t know what I am anymore. Stephanie and I share a room but I can’t stand being around her anymore. So I sleep out in the barn. Jack’s the only one who knows because he came out and found me one night and now he comes with me too. I don’t deserve a brother like that I don’t.

I don’t deserve a friend like you either. I wish I could be anywhere but here. The house is so quiet now. No body laughs. And the only person who smiles is Aunt Joan, everytime she gives me a hug. She’s the one who told me it’s called Selective Mutism. I don’t know why it’s SELECTIVE when I can’t talk to ANYONE. She said it’s part of the PTSD that’s post-traumatic stress disorder. Yeah, disorder. That’s the Millar family now. Grandad is gone, and life is just a shattered wreck of everything I thought I knew.

You probably can’t read this very well, since it’s written in pencil which is all smudged and I can’t hardly concentrate on anything. I just want to go beat up something until I collapse. Or sit down in and cry until I fall asleep. But I can’t do either. Everything hurts Everything

You might be the only person I can say all this too. I don’t mean to scare you, please don’t worry too much. Don’t tell anyone what I said, and especially don’t give anyone my address. Please write back. If I call you, don’t freak. Just you can hang up on me if you want to. If you stil have the same number. I don’t know what to say. Please

Keerah

_(Postmarked July 21)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note to remind everyone that these are supposed to be handwritten letters and mistakes are intentional; NOT because I'm lazy or don't expect my readers to notice. Especially in heavy emotional situations, I will misspell a lot.

Friday, July 22

Dear Peter,

Please don’t feel like you have to write a letter for every one I do. I just have nothing else to do, outside of farm chores anyway. It’s the middle of the night here. Jack is sprawled beside me fast asleep, wrapped like a mummy in a sheet. It’s too hot for blankets, but the mosquitoes will find a way if you don’t prepare for them. They hate me, and any mosquito that missed the memo, just gets smushed, so I’m good.

I can see out through the big door to where the barn cats are getting ready for a squabble. Looks like Junior is about to get another thrashing from Mittens. Sometimes I feel bad I named him Mittens, since he’s the toughest cat around here and deserves the title of King-tom.

I don’t know what else to say, I just write to see my thoughts, even if I can’t hear them. I don’t want to say this, because it sounds so weird… Ugh. Sometimes I hate myself. No, I hate myself all the time. I betrayed my family’s trust, gave us away, let him find us, and because of that he killed Grandad. It’s a good thing I can’t talk, I know. Jack is making me learn sign language (ASL) and he keeps adding codewords for just the two of us. Of course, we’ve always had those.

If I ever talk again, I’m never gonna take a risk like that again. I always swore I’d protect my family, you know? I always told myself, “Well, I can’t protect my country, but I can protect the ones who do.” But I couldn’t. I didn’t. And now I’m a ~~killer~~.

Drat him. My brother took away all my pencils. He says I need to write in pen. “Pencil is too easy, Keez. You can erase things.” I put my knife in the wall an inch above his head. All I WANT is to erase everything that happened. But I can’t. I can’t unsay anything. So, maybe he’s right. Maybe it will make me think twice before I say anything, on paper or otherwise.

The cats are going at it hammer and tongs (you have heard that expression, right?). Jack is sitting up, looking like a moron with his hair all mashed by the sheet and with plenty of hay mixed in. We are bedded down on the sweet smelling second cut we did last week. It was the worst haying I’ve ever done. We did first cut a month ago, finished days before… I mean that’s what my dad says: “Soldiers don’t cry, and farmers don’t get a day off.” This stuff keeps rolling on, needing to be done no matter how I feel. I’ve never done something like that without Grandad. NEVER. He might be officially retired but that doesn’t mean he can’t work. He’s not quite as strong as Dad anymore, but farming doesn’t require super-strength, it’s just an asset. He’s always the one shouting jokes that make everyone break down laughing, but we’re working, sweating buckets, hay dust flying sticking to our skin, palms burned by the strings on the small squares. Pedro always threatens to jump down and close Grandad’s mouth himself, but he never has the breath or time to actually do it. Besides he knows Grandad could take him with one hand tied behind his back.

Jack is looking at me because oh, please no I

Im cryin and I cant see what Im writing. Think I need to stop.

KEEZ

****

August 1, 2016

Dear Keerah,

I just decided that however many letters you wrote I would answer when I actually had something intelligent to say, other than ‘I’m so sorry’ or ‘I wish you didn’t have to go through this.’ Which of course is true, I just, you know, don’t want to say it over and over, because I know how much I hated that after Uncle Ben died.

I’m here. And I’m still your friend.

I Okay you have no idea how long I sat here staring at that I. I’ve never really told anyone this, not even Aunt May, just because I know what she’ll say. I blame myself for Uncle Ben dying.

I know it was a guy with a knife who hated Ben for putting him in prison. But I was right there, I could have done something, and I didn’t. I COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING AND I DIDN’T.

So I am not going to tell you what everyone else is telling you. That it’s not your fault. I mean, it isn’t your fault, but right now, I know that doesn’t matter.

I just noticed something you said, and please don’t be worried or anything, everything here stays just between us, I promise. I know how to keep secrets believe me.

You don’t have to answer these questions, in fact maybe you shouldn’t, but you can’t blame me for being at least a little curious.

Why do you need to keep your family safe? Any more than an ordinary person anyway.

I’m not pretending I can help you anymore if you tell me exactly what’s going on, because I know when you’re trying to hide something. I’ve never heard you talk like this before. At least about your family. You’ve never described anything like someone getting killed, because someone is hunting for your family. It sounds really No, I’m not calling you crazy. But I just want to know, because maybe just knowing I know will help?

This is going to sound stupid but it’s hard to describe how writing that about Uncle Ben makes me feel better. Sort of?

Okay I should stop before this gets too weird.

I read every letter, I promise. And I’ll keep sending you pictures. Ned really liked the last one you sent of you hanging off that horses back. He said you looked like a Native American warrior princess, and thinks you are ‘so cool’.

So do I. Think you are so cool, I mean.

P. B. P.

P.s.

You threw a knife at your brother???!!!!!??!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. With a secret divulged. But... it's not Peter's.

Hi, Keerah.

Just thought I’d drop you a line. Talk about the racoons that have moved into the alley next to Ned’s house and are keeping him up at all hours.

Had a pretty cool day with the Stark internship.

Got to help some people. Really cool. And I got to chat with Mr. Stark himself today.

He told me about something he was working on. He actually asked what I thought! I maybe kinda had trouble answering that question, but I don’t think I sounded too dumb. I know you don’t do a whole lot with inventing stuff, but I hope you know how cool that was.

It’s amazing how two of the smartest people in the world are Avengers. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner. I would totally freak out if I met Dr. Banner. It would be so cool to talk with him about… stuff.

Okay, here’s a question I don’t think I’ve actually asked you before: who is your hero? And if you could meet one of the Avengers, which would it be?

TTYL,

Peter

*****

Wednesday, August 10

Peter,

My hands are shaking and I am scared out of my mind. I can’t count the number of times I’ve restarted this letter. I keep glancing over at the sticky-note Jack wrote for me, about the difference between being afraid and being cautious.

I know it’s kinda stupid, but I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t write this. I hope I’ll have the courage to mail it. I don’t know why I want you to know. Maybe I want to believe that there are people I can trust. And I know I can trust you. Just… promise you’ll burn this letter after you’ve read it? Nobody can find it. THEY CAN’T KNOW WHAT I’M ABOUT TO TELL YOU.

Yeah, I have to protect my family. Because they’re special. But not just to me. They protect the entire country, sometimes even the world.

Because my dad is Captain Canada. And my mom was known as Wonder Woman.

My dad is the third Captain Canada, we had supersoldiers before you Americans were even sure there was going to be a war. The first Captain Canada fought in WW I, my great-grandfather Scott A. Millar.

As for my mom, the heroine we call Wonder Woman (because girls aren’t heroes, they’re heroines), she was the twelfth generation. Her people have been in Canada for as long as there have been people on this continent. My sister Stephanie is the thirteenth. She is Wonder Woman now.

And Jack is called Captain Canuck. He’s 16 and he already has a ‘superhero’ nickname. Jack can fly. Without riding on an eagle like I do.

I know, I know this all sounds crazy. And maybe it kind of is.

But it’s what I know.

That’s my life. My dad is a hero, my mom was a hero, my brother and sister are heroes too. My dad can pull a bus full of people through a raging river, walking against the tide, and against the current, and save every person on that bus. I know, because I saw him do it.

My brother can defy gravity and can move so fast you literally can’t see him. I can, because I have the eyes for it.

My sister can make force fields, and catch a bullet in her teeth. It chipped one of her front ones and scared her. Sometimes I feel bad for her. She’s so young, she was four when Mom died and she’s had to figure out how to use her power mostly on her own. Sometimes I try to tell her how Mom did things, but sometimes she’ll listen and sometimes she won’t.

I bet you’re wondering what the heck I can do. Well, the thing is usually the Wonder Woman powers go to the first girl, and she’s born with it. I didn’t get any. Jack got some, and Stephanie got all of them. But the weird thing is she’s no stronger, physically than Mom was. Jack and I are both as strong as Dad. Actually Jack is stronger.

I guess I’m actually a lot like Dad. I’m just strong and fast and have good eyesight and can shoot anything and have been using a knife since my mom taught me when I was five. I am actually pretty ordinary. Maybe that’s why I messed up so bad. I can’t even protect one person.

Ugh, I read this back and I think it sounds like something crazy you’ll read in the comics. You would never believe this, especially since we’ve been friends for so long and I haven’t said anything.

Okay, Jack just walked in, without knocking, and he took this letter away and read it and said he was going to mail it, because “If Pete is as good a friend as you say he is, he’ll believe you. Or at least not mind being friends with a nutcase.” He let me add this.

Love,

Keerah


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a little clunky. Got a lot going on. And this is just where me mind went. To be honest I feel a lot like Keerah talking to Peter these days, when I am talking to my friends. (God bless sisters-of-the-heart)

Pete,

I didn’t want to write you back until you wrote me back, so I won’t send this until you do.

If you don’t think I’m crazy, just a little weird (because what else are supposed to think about an enhanced human being with the mix of genes I have?) maybe, we can still be friends? Ordinary friends? Except now I can be totally honest with you, about some of the biggest parts of my life?

It’s strange now that you know. But it’s also as if this huge weight is gone. Where it went, I don’t know. And then it comes back every time I see my grandad’s face, frozen in a look of fear, like he was afraid of dying. He wasn’t. He was afraid of me dying. When I was the one who killed him.

He didn’t know. He had no idea that my big mouth was the reason his heart would stop beating, once and for all.

As you can see, I am using pencil to write this. After I wrote you that letter about who I really am, and I don’t know whether to hide or yell at you that it isn’t true, or tell you to forget it, or just laugh it off, or just… I know we’ve never seen each other in person, and probably won’t for a while, unless you still want to be my friend, and will invite me to New York this winter… But… this is going to sound weird, and I might never mail this letter to you anyway, so I’ll say it. I want to be able to look you in the eye, and have you know me for who I am.

A lot of the time I’m not sure who that is. I want to be Keerah Millar who isn’t weird and the other kids don’t ignore. I want other girls to talk to me and maybe laugh about a movie that just came out or go shopping together. Because I can’t stand shopping with Stephanie, she’s so critical, and she looks amazing in everything she wears, so I can never get more specific than…

Why the heck am I rambling like this? I just don’t fit in anywhere. So I can’t figure out where I want to fit in. I’m not ordinary enough for the kids at school, even if they don’t know WHY, and I’m too ordinary for my family.

I wi   Gra     as here.

Um, sorry. The page got wet and when I swiped at it, it smudged.

I should stop and go work with Lionheart. He’s pretty amazing. He’s the first pure Arabian stallion I’ve ever had. He’s… scared. Of a lot of things. Including me. Maybe I’m scared of me sometimes.

*****

August 18, 2016

Dear Keerah,

I get it. All of it.

I promise I understand.

I don’t really know what else to say right now.

But I understand.

There are a lot of places I don’t fit in. Same with Ned. Which is probably why we’ve remained such close friends all through into high-school.

You know one place I fit in? The internship with SI. I just do… It’s hard to explain.

I’m sorry I don’t have more words.

I hope things at the farm are going well.

And Keerah? I think you’re just as amazing now as I did before. Maybe just a little more?

Peter Parker

SI Intern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT   
> Thanks to a variety of reasons, but especially the loss of all Word documents on my computer hard drive, this story is going on indefinate hiatus. No guarantees.  
> Well, except for one. I will write Keerah's story. Just maybe not the way I originally planned. And yes Peter's still an important part of that.   
> I am deeply sorry, and hope that you'll check back every now and then to read the new and improved version of Greatness in Their Blood.


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